Things Left Undone
by SamCole
Summary: Sex was never easy. After a night of romance turns into a night of pain and regret, can Eames and Arthur put aside feelings of heartbreak, regret and even love, or will everything come crashing down? Pre-movie, during movie, post-movie, fic. Enjoy.
1. Whispered Words and Lonely Tears

_**Author's Note: Alright guys, so I watched Inception for the billionth (third) time and decided to take a crack at a fic for my favorite pairing in the movie, Eames and Arthur. It's un-beta'd, so excuse any mistakes please. Also, this appears to be PWP at first glance, but it's going to be multi-chaptered, and I swear there's a plot, just bear with me. This chapter is pre-movie verse, so yeah. Have fun, leave me a review if you liked it, if you hated it, all that jazz.**_

_**Summary: Sex was never easy. After a night of romance, Eames splits, leaving Arthur cold and alone. When they're forced to work together again, they struggle to maintain a work relationship with bitter feelings and regrets, will they work it out, or will everything blow up in their face?**_

_**Rating: M, for, ya know, yaoi. That means m/m sex. You've been warned.**_

_**Whispered Words and Lonely Tears**_

Sex was never easy.

Arthur let out a noise somewhere between a disgruntled growl and a needy whimper, and though Eames was too caught up in his lust to decipher the sound, it sent a rush of pleasure through his body none the less. He pressed Arthur into the door, franticly trying to jam Arthur's hotel key into the door and get it open without having to break the too-passionate kiss. It was mostly teeth and tongue, a lot of clashing and pure, unadulterated lust-the kiss, that is.

The door gave way and Eames shoved slightly, kicking it open while pushing the slightly smaller man into the room, simultaneously peeling off his coat and kicking the door shut without stopping his ministrations on the other's submissive mouth. The door shut in an almost slam about the same moment Eames managed to rid Arthur of the offending article of clothing which was tossed arbitrarily to the floor. Eames peeled his lips away from Arthur's, the smaller man almost-whining at the loss until his lips reattached to his neck. He suckled, bit and kissed the flesh, not really caring whether or not he left marks on his porcelain flesh, too caught up in his desire to ravish to do anything other than to latch on to some part of exposed flesh while he struggled to unbutton Arthur's shirt. He pushed him into a wall, swearing violently at the buttons under his breath before returning his lip to Arthur's jaw and neck.

"Let me," Arthur snapped, though his voice was gruff with need when he batted away Eames' shaky hands and unbuttoned his shirt, allowing the cloth to fall to the floor before he pushed against Eames, shoving him towards the bed while trying to strip him down.

Eames only allowed the display of dominance for so long before he put his hands on Arthur's smooth chest and pressed slightly, pushing him into the desk and reattaching their lips. Eames enjoyed a lot of foreplay, but never before had kissing enthralled him so much as it did with the smaller, lither man. Holy Hell he tasted too amazing for Eames to comprehend, a mixture of mint, something crisp and a taste that was so completely _Arthur_ that it left Eames breathless. He ravished the smaller's mouth, lightly calloused hands splaying over his ivory chest, pressing and tweaking every so often, causing Arthur to let out little strangled moans into his mouth, sounds that Eames eagerly swallowed up and sent electric bolts of pleasure through his body. His fingers worked feverishly at the buttons on Arthur's trousers, throwing caution and properness to the wind, completely aware that they were moving too fast but not finding it in him to care.

He had gone on too long from afar, admiring the lithe, stunning brunette from afar to the point of obsession. He couldn't help it; there was just something about Arthur, his smooth, feminine face, ivory skin like fresh cream and sweet deep blue eyes that often glared at him through girlishly thick lashes when Eames tormented him. Eames couldn't help but mess with him, but he did so affectionately, he just loved seeing Arthur all pouty and worked up, he just couldn't help it.

All that feeling, all the adoration, all the desire that Eames had kept pent up for so long, too long were pouring out now. He wasn't aware he was whispering Arthur's name until they had stumbled toward the bed, Arthur-now clad only in boxers-had pushed him onto the mattress, telling him to hush before covering the taller, broader man's mouth with his own. Eames felt like he was drowning, his entire body burned and ached, but every time Arthur's skin came flush against Eames', it was like a breath of fresh air in his needy lungs, long awaited and oh so needed.

Eames gripped Arthur's smaller arms and tugged, pulling the other man down to the mattress and pushing himself over top of him in one fluid, easy movement. Normally, Eames would tease his lovers, tormenting them until they were begging for him, but as it was, Eames needed to be in Arthur more than anything _now._

Eames peeled off Arthur's boxers, allowing his cock to spring free of its confines. He took his soon to be lover's need in his hands, spreading the precum that had already begun to gather on the head down his hard length, causing Arthur to keen and thrust into his hand. Eames latched his lips onto Arthur's pink nipple, one hand still working his shaft while the other blindly patted the nightstand for the tube of lube he had in the top drawer. He found it, popped the cap open and poured the liquid onto his fingers.

He paused then, looking at Arthur whose eyes were half-mast in pleasure, lips parted allowing little breathy pants to escape and his cheeks flushed pink. As always, Eames found him too beautiful for words, yet he managed to whisper, "Are you sure about this darling?"

Arthur gave him a look that was almost a glare and said in a tone that sounded suspiciously needy, "just do it you idiot."

Eames smiled, charmed, and slid a slick finger into Arthur's rear. Arthur gasped and Eames stifled a groan as the tight, warm ring of muscle swallowed his digit into its heat. He felt so good, so tight and hot and _perfect_ that Eames' cock wept in desire and anticipation within the confines of his too tight pants and boxers. Still, he ignored his own needs and pushed his finger deeper, whispering soft words of comfort into the juncture of Arthur's neck and jaw.

"Relax my darling," he purred, his finger sliding in and out. Too his slight surprise, Arthur actually went lax at his words, moans pouring from his sinfully beautiful lips as he rocked back on Eames' slick finger. Eames removed his finger, added a bit more lube as a precaution and slid in a second finger.

Arthur whined, his face contorting in pain and his ring of muscle clamping down around Eames' fingers. Eames peppered his face with kisses, his free hand running over his lover's smooth, small frame as he cooed soothingly.

"Sh, my darling. Relax, love, I'll take care of you. You've got to relax, darling," and similar mannerisms were whispered by the slightly elder man as he attempted to sooth the brunette's pain. Slowly yet surely Eames felt Arthur's muscled go slack and began to scissor the digits, pushing them in and out while searching for his prostate, seeking the need to please him when Arthur let out a sob of a moan, the sound so raw and needy that Eames was surprised to hear it spill from the Architect's lips.

Eames pressed against the bundle of nerves again and again making Arthur moan loudly once more and causing him to rock back onto Eames' fingers, to which Eames regarded by stilling his hips, slicking up a third and final finger and pressing it back inside Arthur. Arthur whined in pleasure and faint pain, but Eames was met with less resistance and found Arthur opening up much quicker, his fingers sliding in and out of his tight heat while he let out almost pornographic moans.

"Sh-Shit, Eames," he gasped out, gripping the larger man's biceps and making him lock eyes. "Just fuck me."

That was all the encouragement Eames needed. He withdrew his fingers; (secretly enjoying the pathetic look of loss that crossed Arthur's face) stripped himself down and stroked his already sensitive cock, smearing lube and precum over it. The beautiful man splayed out before him had him more worked up than any other man or women had ever before and it shocked Eames to realize just how strongly he felt for the younger, slightly smaller man.

He lifted his hips, Arthur's legs wrapping around his waist as he slowly pressed inside, hissing at the intense pleasure the little movement caused. He struggled not to slam violently into the other man, swallowing his feral needs over the need to let his lover adjust. Arthur's face was contorted into a mask of pain and pleasure, his fingers gripping the disheveled bed sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. Once Eames bottomed out he paused, forcing himself to let Arthur relax.

He kissed under his eyes, attempting to soothe. "You okay, darling?"

When Arthur's eyes slid open and locked with Eames' the elder almost gasped at the intense, fiery passion he saw there along with-dare he say it-love? "Fuckin' move," he demanded and who was Eames to disagree with that?

He tried to keep a slow, even pace at first, not wanting to hurt the Architect with his raw animalistic desire, but Arthur seemed to want none of the tenderness. He eagerly met Eames' thrusts, encouraging him with little whines of, "fuck more," and, "damnit, faster Eames," and the occasional, "oh god, yes, please…"

All of this was almost too much for Eames; the brutal smacking sound of flesh against flesh accompanied by Arthur's cries of pleasure synced up with Eames' groans of lust filled the air, the music to their passionate dance of love. Eames thrusted feverishly in and out, encouraged by all of Arthur's cries, locking lips with him every so often before they'd part to take in lung fulls of air and to let out sounds of satisfaction. Eames was in Heaven, or perhaps Hell, he wasn't sure. At that moment the only thing he was sure of was Arthur, his lover, the man of his dreams, the object of his desire, the man he…loved?

The thought made his thrusting stutter, but he dismissed it quickly, replacing it with dirty thoughts of Arthur's body and pushing feelings back where they belonged, in the deep recesses of his mind. Arthur's hips shifted slightly and Eames slammed into his spot, he cried out, his eyes flying open as he nearly screamed out, "oh my god! Fuck…"

Eames set to abusing his prostate, pushing violently in and out of him, glad that Arthur was just as eager to take what he had to give. He reached between them and gripped Arthur's weeping cock and began stroking it in time with his thrusts, willing the other man to come undone first.

"Shit, Eames, can't-gonna-oh god!" Arthur babbled incoherently.

"It's okay darling, come, come for me," Eames pleaded, his voice thick and heavy with lust as he felt his own orgasm nearing.

As Eames had hoped Arthur came first, spurting warm come all over his lover's hand and abdomen, a moan in the form of Eames' name ripped from his lips in the process. The feeling of Arthur's warm seed on his hot skin, Arthur's pleasure ridden face and his muscles tightening around Eames' cock ripped his own orgasm from him. Eames came with Arthur's name on his tongue, crying out as white gripped his vision and electric bolts of pleasure ripped through his body.

When he came back to himself, his thrusts stilling, he struggled not to collapse on the smaller man. He pulled his softening cock from Arthur's ass, and collapsed beside him, panting heavily, his body tingling from the intensity of his orgasm. Arthur panted softly too, the open curtains let in the opalescent glow of the full moon, bathing them in light and outlining hickeys on Arthur's pale neck. Eames kissed on almost apologetically and Arthur looked at him, his lips parting to speak.

"I love you."

It was Eames' gruff, tired voice that spoke and Arthur's face that became a mask of shock, then peace. He pressed close to Eames smiling softly and sighing contently as he whispered. "And I love you."

Eames smiled, his fingers running through Arthur's hair. "Shouldn't we get cleaned up before bed?"

Arthur grunted, his eyes already closed and tendrils of sleep clearly already taking hold of him. "There's time for that in the morning," he muttered, and pressed closer to Eames. Eames smiled softly and held the lithe man closer to him, savoring the warmth of his body and the peace of the moment. Quickly, Arthur fell asleep, leaving Eames alone to think.

He studied the beautiful man he had just made love to, so flawless and stunning, a smart, scholarly type man with a good heart and kind ways. It was then that Eames realized what he had done. He wasn't much more than a con-man, working for whoever paid him with no moral compass or sense of right and wrong. The only reason he and Arthur had ever crossed paths was due to Cobb, otherwise they never would have exchanged so much as pleasantries in the world. Instead of feeling grateful and pleased for the events that led them to be together, Eames suddenly felt guilty and sick to his stomach.

What had he done?

When Arthur awoke in the morning he found that he was cold, sticky and naked. He rolled over in bed, expecting to see Eames' slumbering form but instead found only an empty bed. He frowned, tossing the thin covers off himself and roamed toward the bathroom, assuming maybe the elder was in there. It was then that he noticed that the only clothing items remaining on the floor were his, none of Eames' designer clothes were to be seen.

"No," he whispered, his heart suddenly in his throat. He pulled on his boxers and raced over to the phone to call Eames where he found the note, the three words there would break him even more than the three words Eames' had spoken to him the evening before had defined him. Tears blurred his vision as he slowly sank to the bed and re-read the words.

Scrawled in quick yet neat hand writing were the three words that broke Arthur's heart.

'I'm so sorry.'


	2. Unstable Work Relationships

_**Authors Note: This chapter is really only about kind of getting into everyone's head, my poor attempt to thicken the plot, as it would seem. This is a rather short chapter, but the one that follows is much longer and contains boy kissing! If you want it, let me know! Well, have fun with it.**_

_**Rating: Uh, I don't know. PG-13 or something for swearing and shit?**_

_**Unstable Work Relationships and Buried Feelings**_

"Eames? No Eames is in Mombasa, that's Cobol's backyard," Arthur replied quickly, trying not to seem too concerned with what was about to happen.

"It's a necessary risk," Cobb replied, scooping up his jacket.

"There are plenty of good thieves." Arthur pushed, silently begging his friend not to bring his ex into this game, even if Cobb didn't know about their fling.

"We don't just need a thief, we need a Forger," Cobb replied, pulling on his jacket and Arthur swore inwardly.

As Cobb exited the warehouse, the point man threw himself into a chair, head in his hands. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to work with the man who had just broke his heart less than a handful of months ago. His chest still ached, his hands clenched with dread at the thought of looking into Eames' eyes again and falling so hard, so fast all over again, even though he knew he had only been used by said man.

Maybe he wouldn't come. He probably wouldn't even pay attention to Cobb's crazy idea of inception. Maybe he'd dismiss him as crazy, which, you know, he kind of _was_. He began to relax, reassuring himself that his ex-lover would turn down the job.

Feeling much calmer and more reassured, he began busying himself with equipment.

"Arthur? You're still working with that stick in the mud?" Eames asked, his tone smooth and cocky as he disguised his silent glee at the idea of seeing Arthur again. He couldn't get the stupid man out of his mind, which didn't really surprise him. How could he possibly stop thinking about him after their fling a few months ago?

"He's good at what he does, right?" Cobb replied simply.

"Oh the best, but he has no imagination."

"Not like you." Cobb replied, and the conversation deviled into the ways of inception, how to pull it off, what was going to be needed and so forth, though Eames couldn't shake off the anticipation. He longed to see Arthur, even if he hated him, even if he wouldn't talk to him, Eames just wanted to see his beautiful face.

When things were squared away with Yusuf and they went to board a plane back to the warehouse where Arthur was, Eames found himself tingling with anticipation.

As it turned out, Arthur kind of did hate him, or at least that's how it seemed. When Eames had arrived and said hi to the lithe man, he brushed him off with a simple hello and returned his attention to Ariadne, their conversation continuing as if Eames wasn't even there.

Eames left him there, joining Cobb, but his eyes never left Arthur. He kept talking, his eyes locked on the young woman's, his smooth, elegant tone never faltering, but Eames could see the distress in Arthur's eyes, the way his hands twitched, constantly moving. It was his job to know how people worked and he could tell that Arthur was deeply unsettled by his presence.

This made Eames feel guilty. He had thought that Arthur would be over him (Hell, he thought _he_ would be over _Arthur_) but as it turned out he was clearly wrong. The emotions Arthur projected were ones of hurt, confusion and even rage.

"Arthur," Eames said softly, walking over to the pretty man. "We need to talk."

Annoyance and discomfort flashed across Arthur's face and when he replied, he didn't look away from Ariadne. "Can it wait?"

"No."

Arthur sighed and stood, "Fine. You've got a minute."

Eames looked around and lightly grabbed Arthur's arm. "Can we do this somewhere a bit more…private?"

Arthur jerked away and stormed outside, his emotions clearly hitting their boiling point.

Eames joined him outside and opened his mouth to speak.

"Shut up, Eames. Just shut up. You've got some gall, you know that? Showing up here and acting like we're…we're _friends_ after what you did," Arthur growled savagely, surprising Eames.

"Look, Arthur, I know I hurt you-"

"Shut up. You have no _clue_ what you did. So just shut your trap and listen. This is a job. If Cobb didn't need us both on this, I'd leave, but as it is, he needs us, so here's how it's going to work. We're going to forget that you left me alone in Paris five months ago and I'm going to pretend I can stand being in the same room with you. We're going to act like business partners and nothing else but let me make this very, _very_ clear. There's nothing between us, and there won't be, so go on acting like we're okay with each other and once this job is done I never want to see your face again, got it?" Arthur spoke rapidly, angrily, and almost threateningly, but Eames could see the hurt in his eyes.

"Arthur, I really think we should talk about-"

"No, Eames. We're done talking."

Eames frowned, becoming frustrated by Arthur's tone. He just wanted to talk; he just wanted to make things right between them and Arthur wasn't even giving him a chance to explain things, to try to fix what was wrong. "I don't think that's fair, Arthur."

"You know what, life isn't fair." Arthur interrupted him again and turned to head back into the warehouse.

Eames grabbed his arm gently, attempting to keep him there a moment longer when Arthur did something that surprised them both. He slapped Eames, hard. Hard enough that Eames let him go and took several steps back, staring at Arthur in disbelief until Arthur turned his back on him and walked back in the warehouse.

Eames stood there a moment, shocked that the man who had once confessed his love to him had just hit him. Eames wanted to be angry at him, and to some extent he was, but he was also angry at himself for letting it get to this. If he had just kept his junk in his pants, this wouldn't have been a problem.

He sighed, angry with himself and Arthur, unable to make sense of his feelings and for once in his life, not sure what to do next. So he did all he could do and walked back into the warehouse where Cobb was gathering Arthur and Ariadne to him, motioning for Eames as well. If he noticed the red, hand shaped mark on Eames' cheek he didn't say anything.

"Ariadne has completed the designs-"

"More or less," the pretty girl interrupted, explaining in greater detail that she had the basic idea, but needed to more about the situation at hand to create the proper layouts.

"Do we have a plan?" Cobb asked Eames.

Eames shrugged, and Ariadne sighed and left the men alone to go design proper mazes while they worked on a plan.

"Let's hear what you've got so far," Cobb prompted, sitting down beneath the white board.

Eames picked up a pile of papers on the desk, skimming through them momentarily, silently relieved that his cheek no longer stung from the force of Arthur's hit. Arthur had taken a seat near a slumbering Saito and looked up at him. All the rage, anger, hurt, and betrayal were gone from his face, hidden behind a mask of half-hearted interest and almost-boredom.

"The vultures are circling," Eames began, "the sicker Morris Fisher becomes the more powerful Peter Browning becomes. I've had ample opportunity to observe Browning…"

Arthur was only half paying attention. He could hear the words coming out of Eames' mouth, understand them, but every part of him wanted to vomit or smack him again, maybe even both. He felt ill, his chest hurt and he just wanted to get some well needed rest like their dreaming employer who sat behind him.

"Now, in the first layer of the dream I can impersonate Browning, suggest concept to Fisher's conscious mind. Then, when we take him a level deeper his own projection of Browning should, _should_ feed that right back to him," Eames concluded, drawing Arthur's attention. As much as he currently hated the man, his idea was brilliant.

"So he gives himself the idea?" Arthur asked, summarizing Eames' idea in six simple words.

"Precisely. It's the only way it will stick. It has to seem self-generated." Eames replied simply, looking everywhere but at Arthur's beautiful face.

"Eames, I am impressed," Arthur replied, leaning back. Everyone else saw Arthur's words as a compliment, but Eames knew the words were meant to hurt.

"Your condescension, as always, is much appreciated Arthur, thank you."

Arthur's feelings of awe melted away and he grabbed a folder, looking through it and shutting the idiot out again, they had a lot of work to do.


	3. The Beginning of the End and the Truth

_**Author's Note: Hi guys! I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters, but I've been busy with other stories that are (sadly) not going anywhere. Seems this is the only story that I can write. Well, enough of my babble. This chapter is not the last one, however it's a sort of…catharsis. Haha, it's my word of the day. Anyway, enjoy! Favorite, drop me a review if you'd like, all that jazz. P.S. So, I realize the characters may be a little OOC, but that couldn't be helped, as I wanted this chapter to be emotional and neither man are very emotional in the movie, so just, like get over the slight OOC-ness, alright?**_

_**Rating: I dunno, this chapter is mostly schmoop. But there is boy-kissing!**_

_**The Beginning of the End and the Truth**_

The next day, the group sat discussing ways to plant the idea in Robert Fisher's head. Eames had explained that they needed the idea in its simplest form, that way he could take to the idea much quicker. Once again, Arthur found himself struggling to pay attention to the conversation, his own mind trying to sort out his feelings for Eames. He had hardly been able to get any sleep the night before, his mind refusing to shut off no matter how hard he tried. He just wanted to go to sleep, but instead he was stuck staring at the ceiling, wishing he hadn't hit Eames, but also wishing he had beat him senseless. He was just one man, how could one man screw with his head this much? How could one stupid, British Forger keep him up all night trying to sort out his feelings? He wasn't sure what he wanted from him. One second he wanted Eames to hold him close and kiss him, the next he just wanted him to go away.

What the Hell was wrong with him?

"I will split up my father's empire," Cobb began, motioning toward the white board where the words were written. "Now this is obviously an idea that Robert himself would choose to reject. Which is why need to plant it deep into his subconscious. The subconscious in motivated by emotion, right, not reason. So we need to translate this into an emotional concept."

"How do you translate a business strategy into an emotion?" Arthur asked.

"That's what we're here to figure out, right? Now Robert's relationship with his father is stressed to say the least," Cobb spoke evenly as he rolled up his sleeves.

"Okay we can run with that. We can suggest to him breaking up his father's company as a screw you to the old man?" Eames suggested, closing his folder.

"No because I think positive emotion trumps negative emotion every time. We all yearn for reconciliation, a catharsis. We need Robert Fisher to have a positive emotional reaction to all this," Cobb explained and Arthur couldn't help but glance at Eames. Closure, reconciliation? Were those the things that Arthur wanted from him?

"How about this? My father accepts that I want to create for myself, not follow in his footsteps," Eames replied, rocking back in his chair slightly.

"That might work." Cobb said, shrugging.

"Might? We're going to need to do a little better than might." Arthur spoke up, not entirely comfortable with ifs and maybes when they were about to embark on something that was virtually impossible.

"Thank you for your contributions Arthur."

"Forgive me for wanting a little specificity Eames. _Specificity,_" Arthur frowned as he spoke, the aggravation he felt leaking into his voice.

"Inception is not about being specific. When we get inside his mind we're going to have to work with what we find," Cobb said, either oblivious to the tension in the air between the two men or deciding to ignore it.

Arthur zoned out again as they discussed specifics, Ariadne spoke of her basic ideas for the level, explaining to everyone how each level would amplify the idea they were trying to implant into Fisher's mind, Yusuf explained how he was working on the sedative, trying to heighten certain things without effecting others but Arthur couldn't focus.

His mind was still stuck on Eames' snide comment, trying to figure out if he was messing with him like he used to or if he was just trying to hurt Arthur. Either way, Arthur felt hurt and annoyed. This was all his fault, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the charade that he was alright.

The next few days were spent in the real world and in the dreamscape, Ariadne showed everyone her skills, which Arthur had to admit, were impressive, Yusuf demonstrated the power of his sedative (which was kind of scary) and Eames taught Ariadne what a kick was much to his chagrin. Yusuf spent a few minutes pushing Arthur out of a chair, Eames laughed and Cobb looked relieved.

Next thing they knew, they were getting ready to leave, hours away from kissing the real world goodbye and taking a crack at the impossible. The night before, Arthur attempted to leave early, having had enough of Eames' presence and feeling his ability to remain composed wearing thin. Every taunt, every joke, every laugh was too much for Arthur to handle. His heart hurt and he just wanted to go home and go to sleep.

"Arthur," Cobb called as Arthur was attempting to escape and Arthur swore silently but walked over to him anyway. Arthur kind of dreaded what was about to happen, he knew he could only keep the truth from Cobb for so long, they had grown close and Cobb had no doubt seen the truth of what was going on.

"Yeah, Cobb?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

"What's going on between you and Eames?" Just like Cobb to cut right to the chase, no skipping around the subject, just diving right in.

For once, Cobb's bluntness was something that Arthur hated, if only for the moment. "It's complicated, Dom," he said simply, not really wanting to get into details.

"You're sleeping with him?" Cobb inquired, seeming completely disinterested.

Arthur blanched and suddenly felt ill. Was he sleeping with Eames? No. Would he like to? Maybe, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

He sighed tiredly and struggled to look Cobb in the face. "Not at the moment."

Cobb arched an eyebrow and motioned for him to elaborate which Arthur ignored. Cobb frowned and shifted his weight to his other foot, arms crossed firmly across his chest. "What does that mean, Arthur?"

"We had sex a few months ago. I thought it meant more than it did, Eames split before I woke up and it's been complicated ever since," Arthur summed up quickly, feeling more exposed than he would have liked. When he looked back at Cobb, he was surprised to see concern and sympathy in his friend's gaze.

"Arthur…" He paused, not sure how to console his only real friend. Still, he needed Arthur's head in the game, the guy was not only his friend, but his Point Man, and he couldn't afford to have him being upset over this sort of stuff. "You love him?"

Arthur was torn between wanting to punch Cobb out for suggesting such a thing and wanting to break down in sobs from the truth of his words. Yeah, he loved Eames. It was the thing he'd been avoiding for the past few days, focusing on the job as best as he could and trying to bury his feelings and Cobb, damn him, had to go and drag them out in the open. It was as if he poured acid on a still-bleeding wound.

"Cobb-"

"Thought so," he interrupted and sighed. "Look, Arthur, whatever is going on between you two, you need to talk and work it out."

Arthur winced as if hit. "But-"

"No buts Arthur. If you guys bring these feelings into the job, when we get in Fisher's head, it could ruin everything we've worked for and we can't have that. And, to be honest, I know you're hurting," he held up a hand to silence when Arthur began to protest and finished with a simple, "but he's hurting too."

Arthur gaped at him and Cobb shrugged and walked away, leaving Arthur once again alone, confused and hurting. Arthur felt like he was going to pass out, throw up and sob all at the same time and bolted from the warehouse. He raced down a narrow alley, tossed up the contents of the little food he had in his stomach, leaned against the brick wall and did something he hadn't allowed himself to do since the who fiasco started.

He began sobbing. He wrapped his arms around himself as if he was attempting to keep himself together. Tears streamed down his face freely, blurring his vision and running off his face onto his over-priced suit pants. The sobs that erupted from him wracked his lithe frame; the sounds of sorrow ripping from his lips filling his own ears and making him feel even more pathetic.

He didn't hear the sound of footfalls on the stone, or see the person who wrapped their arms around him until it was too late. He tried to blink away the tears and calm down enough to see who was holding him but once he did, he wished he hadn't. Eames held him close and the show of affection only made him sob harder. He didn't want this, he didn't want the man's touch, didn't want to hear his soft, soothing coos, didn't want anything to do with him yet he couldn't shove him away. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of Eames' neck and sobbed.

"I hate you," he choked out between sobs, his fists gripping the front of Eames' shirt.

He felt Eames frown against his shoulder, not realizing until then that he had said the words out loud. "Why the hell…what the fuck Eames," he managed, calming enough to shove the man away from him. Suddenly Arthur was all to enraged by Eames' attempt o calm him. "What…what gives you the-the right!" He screamed between sobs. The rage he felt was suddenly directed at himself for being so weak and allowing one man to get to him. He was enraged at himself for allowing his composure to fail, for letting himself feel, and enraged at Eames for hurting him like he did and then trying to be friends with him.

But he hurt too. His chest ached, his eyes stung from the tears, and he felt horrible for screaming at Eames. It was too much; everything was too conflicting, all of his emotions wreaking havoc inside him like a violent tsunami amongst a hurricane. He couldn't handle it, all of the pain and regret and love and sorrow, all of it tearing him apart.

This is why he often chose to repress his feelings, because this is what emotions did if you let them. They broke you down, tore you up and left you bleeding and alone.

"Just leave me alone," Arthur croaked out, folding in on himself and letting tears wash over him again.

He was surprised to feel Eames' arms around him again, and even more shocked by the pain he heard in Eames' voice when he replied. "I already made that mistake Arthur; I'm not leaving you again."

The words hurt more than they healed. Arthur sobbed harder but gripped Eames' biceps like he was the only thing keeping him from drowning in his emotions.

"I don't have a right to tell you this…I don't have a right to hold you or touch you, I don't even have a right to look at you, which is why I left you before. I didn't think, I thought you were too good for me, and you are, but I…I can't stay away from you Arthur. Shit, I don't want to, but I love you. I really, really do, and I can't help but selfishly take from you anything you have to give me, can't help but steal glances, little touches, even now, holding you, I'm trying to tell myself I'm helping you, but I feel as though I'm just doing this because I can't stand to be away from you, don't you understand?" Eames said, and Arthur was surprised even further to see Eames' face, filed with regret and streaked with tears.

Suddenly, abruptly, they were kissing, but it was nothing like before. This kiss was bitter, sorrowful, loving, tender and healing all at once. It was soft, just lips against lips with no tongue of teeth, it was exactly what Arthur needed, exactly what they both needed. They stayed like that for what seemed like eons, Eames' lips pressed softly against Arthur's, wiping away his tears, and Arthur's lips pressed against Eames', his hands gripping Eames' wrists.

When they parted, Arthur looked at Eames, saw love, concern and regret in his eyes and wasn't sure what to think or what to feel. He was afraid to let Eames in, afraid if he allowed himself to love and be loved that Eames would only leave him once more. He wanted to voice these things, tell Eames how scared he was but when he opened his mouth and spoke tiredly, the only words that came out were, "hold me."

And Eames wrapped his arms around him, cradling him close. In a stinky, dingy ally, wrapped up in each other the two men sat, broken, healing and learning to trust again, struggling to understand one another.

It was painful, horrible and ugly, yet it was the most beautiful, perfect, tender moment in either men's lives.


End file.
